


Ficlets Collection

by bouncymouse



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Categories May Change, F/M, Ficlets, Pirates, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Random Encounters, Romance, Smut, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:55:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29841153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bouncymouse/pseuds/bouncymouse
Summary: Random snippets that are too long for the drabble collection. Random pairings, random situations, a lot of absolute crack. If you ever wondered how writers warm up, this is how :'D (Pairings listed in chapter titles)
Relationships: Elena/Tseng (Compilation of FFVII), Tifa Lockhart/Cloud Strife, Tifa Lockhart/Reno, Zack Fair/Tifa Lockhart
Comments: 29
Kudos: 32





	1. Zack/Tifa

**Author's Note:**

> This is just pure random crack!fic. Sometimes, when I'm stuck on something my brain wanders and does _things_. Or sometimes I'm chatting on Discord and somebody suggests something and it just... happens (Pirate ReTi, I'm looking at you).
> 
> I just wanted to share them because there are so many scenarios I've chatted about that people want to see but _don't_ fit into a full-length fic... So this is where the plot bunnies come to die...
> 
> Special thanks to Melonpaan for bringing pirate!ReTi into the world (I don't usually AU, but when I do, it's CRACK) and also starting me on the Zifa train <3
> 
> (Pairings tagged in chapter titles... I'm a multi-shipping biatch so there's a variety)

It’s too cold. Too _bright_. She throws her hand over her eyes and blinks in discomfort.

“You’re early.”

She doesn’t recognise the voice… except she _does_... on some level. She’s heard it before, hasn’t she? But where?

“You’re all grown up.”

The aqua light fades and she drops her hand. Squints to bring the blurry figure into focus.

He’s tall. Really tall. Muscles ripple along his bare arms, folded across a broad chest. Dark hair and a cocky grin, his weight balanced insubordinately on one foot and his hair a little longer, a little more dishevelled than she remembers…

_Does_ she remember?

His eyes are the same colour as the light. Bright and clear as the ocean. Full of mischief.

“Zack?”

“That’s right.” He grins. “You remembered.”

His clothes are familiar but unfamiliar. So like those Cloud wears. And Cloud…

She stumbles, eyes wide. He catches her.

“Careful,” he says, and his hands are warm against her skin.

“This is the Lifestream.” She can barely get the words out. They stick to her tongue and in her throat and a sob tries to clamber free. She’s shaking like a leaf. “Am I—”

“Dead? Not yet.”

“The dragon…”

“Yeah… he got you good. But Cloud’s on it. Don’t worry.”

“I don’t understand…”

“Aerith sent me. She thought you’d be scared. So here I am.”

“I need to go back. I need—”

“You will. Don’t sweat it.” He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and on some level, she _knows_ the sensation. In another world, another lifetime…

“Zack…”

“I know… I feel it too.”

She’s leaning into his palm, so unfamiliar and yet… This is home. This is safety. This is—

His mouth is gentle, his lips cracked and soft and warm. The kiss doesn’t linger, as uncertain as it is fleeting. When he pulls away, her heart _aches_.

She doesn’t understand.

“Things could’ve been so different,” he murmurs. Frowns, his eyebrows knitted together, and he looks so conflicted, so _adorable_. “Life, huh? What a bitch.”

The light is fading. She blinks, trying to keep him in focus.

“Catch you later, Tifa.”

The last thing she sees is his eyes.


	2. Reno/Tifa (Pirates AU ~ Part 1)

Reno was feeling _pretty_ fucking proud of himself when he swaggered on board, dragging his booty along behind him. The whoops of the crew were too much to ignore.

He bowed and grinned, showboating for the crowd. Caught Rude’s mildly irritated expression and toned it down _just_ a touch because they both knew the Captain was about to be _very_ busy and Rude would be the one making sure the Turks were doing what they should be doing.

They were mostly a rag-tag bunch. A far cry from the Heaven’s Angels—he’d be the first to admit that—but they were _his_ rag-tag bunch, and that meant a lot in these waters.

All the while those ruby eyes bored holes into the back of his neck and he knew—oh, he _knew_ —she’d make him pay. Right now, that delicious torture was a pipedream on his horizon, guaranteed by the weighty bag of plundered gold jingling at his hip and the length of rope wrapped around his hand.

He yanked it. Heard her curse under her breath when she tripped and couldn’t quite believe his ears. He was rubbing off on her.

He tossed the bag of gold at Elena, who caught it with a flourish.

“I’m going to interrogate the prisoner,” he proclaimed, and the cheers multiplied. “Rude has the wheel. First person who interrupts me feeds the fish. Savvy?”

“Aye aye, Captain!”

The cabin door slammed shut. He perched on the edge of his desk, blinking at the sudden darkness after the sunlight outside. Cool air against his clammy skin made him shiver.

“I suppose I should untie you,” he purred, giving the rope another tug.

She stumbled towards him, heels clattering across the wooden planks, dark hair dishevelled. If looks could kill…

“Untie me, and I’ll break your nose.”

“Lockhart—”

“ _Captain_ Lockhart—”

“—that’s not friendly now, is it?”

“Reno—”

“ _Captain_ Reno.”

She snorted. “Captain? Of this barrel of vagabonds? Don’t make me laugh.”

That earned her another sharp yank of the rope, bringing her into his clutches. He pinned her in place with his knees, crossing his ankles behind her calves. “Now that’s just plain _mean_.”

“Must we really go through this charade every time?”

He shrugged. “You’re the one who wanted to keep up appearances. If you’ve got any better ideas for how I can smuggle you on board, I’m all ears.”

She pouted. His eyes snagged on the plush line of her bottom lip and travelled, settling on the cleavage so prettily presented to him, hiked up by the leather vest she wore over her shirt. He twirled the straining ribbon that laced it up around his finger.

“I hate you.” She lifted her bound hands, slipped them around his neck. Grazed his scalp with her nails. “Just you remember that.”

“Oh, I know.” He wound his arms around her waist, dragging her closer. She smelt of sweat and gunpowder, her eyes shining wickedly in the low light. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”


	3. Reno/Tifa (Pirates AU ~ Part 2)

Being annoyed was difficult when he was sitting there so cockily, shirt buttoned indecently low and his crimson hair sticking up at angles where he’d rubbed his fingers through it. Tifa glanced down at the sun-kissed lines of his chest, the leather-clad thighs that pinned her in place and chewed on her bottom lip, peering up at him through her lashes.

He quirked an eyebrow. “Fuck off. I’m not falling for that innocent act again.” 

“You don’t trust me?”

“Nope.”

She tried to suppress a grin and failed. “Worth a try.”

“Hmm…” He leaned forward and bumped his nose against her cheek. “Now about this interrogation…”

“I’m not telling you anything.”

“Ah… but _that_ means you know things I should know.”

She _knew_ that smirk. It stirred the wings of the butterflies in her stomach, his blue eyes full of promise. She flexed her wrists against the ropes that bound them. Slid her fingers through his hair. “Perhaps.”

His breath was warm on her skin. “Sounds like a challenge.”

“Hmm.”

She pressed into him, tried to capture his mouth, longing to taste him. He twisted, taking her with him and ducked out of her bound wrists before she knew what was happening. Braced his palms against her shoulders and shoved her against the desk. She hit it with a thud.

“Well, well… _Captain_ Lockhart… however will I make you talk?” 

He sauntered closer. Reached out and squeezed her knee with one hand, trailing his fingers along her thigh, her hips, her ribcage. Grasped her hands and pushed them up above her head.

She heard the _thunk_ when the rope hit the floor behind her and he ducked momentarily, disappearing from view. Her eyes widened when her binds snapped taut, pinning her arms in place.

“Reno...”

He loomed over her, eyes glittering. In his hand, he held the length of rope. She struggled, and he pulled it tighter, her back arching off the desk as she felt the pull in her shoulders.

“ _Oh, no_.” His fingers found her thigh again, travelling higher, his thumb skimming the seam of her breeches between her legs. “It appears I have the upper hand.”

He looped the rope once, twice and secured it with his boot, freeing both hands to slip below her shirt, his fingers cool against her stomach. She frowned, the sounds of the crew at work on the other side of the wooden panelling suddenly feeling very loud in the small space of the cabin. 

“Did you lock the door?”

He grinned. Hooked his fingers into her waistband and dragged her breeches down. “Nope… So you’d better keep that pretty mouth _shut_.”

His mouth was on her with no other preamble, that silver tongue of his sliding along her folds. She bucked and squirmed, surprised by the sudden contact, and he laughed.

“Hmm…” He pressed his tongue into her and she gasped. “Look how wet you are. And I haven’t even _started..._ ”

His eyes burned when she caught them, highlighted by the red crescent tattoos below them. He licked along her slit again and hers slid shut.

“ _Ah…_ ”

He pressed a finger into her, then another. Flicked his tongue against her clit and chuckled when she mewled and cried. The pace he set was maddening, _just_ too slow, _just_ too light… She writhed against him and he stepped a little harder on the rope, forcing her still.

“Now…” He pulled his fingers out slowly. Plunged them back in and she bit down on her lip to stifle her cry. “What am I asking you again?”

“I don’t know,” she whimpered. He pressed a little harder, moved his tongue a little faster, and she felt the heat pooling in her core. “ _Oh…_ You didn’t say.”

He crooked his fingers, and she bucked her hips, his mouth settling into the tempo she needed. Firmer, faster, his tongue determined and his fingers steady and she could feel it now, the bright, trembling peak as the waves shuddered through her. And she was rising, riding, _almost_ cresting the wave, her head thrown back and her eyes squeezed shut as a cry broke through her and—

Cool air replaced the silken heat of his mouth, his fingers falling still inside her. “So, you hate me?”

Frustration surged through her. She squirmed against his hand. “No… Reno, _please_.”

“So if you don’t hate me… you must _like_ me?”

She felt his breath against her inner thigh, hot and damp. She didn’t need to open her eyes to know he was grinning.

“Yes.”

“ _Yes_...”

“Yes, _Captain_ ,” she gritted out.

He rolled his tongue across her clit, and she shuddered. 

“How much do you like me?”

“A lot.” She gasped as he moved his fingers again, torturously slowly. “I like you a lot.”

“How much is a lot?”

“ _A lot_ —” she cried out as his pace picked back up, “—ah, _Reno…_ ”

This time the peak came at a dizzying pace, her body hurtling towards the crescendo and—

“How about a scale of one to ten?”

Her eyes snapped open.

He laughed. Edged a third finger inside her and increased the pressure a touch. She was almost there and this time, if he stopped, she was going to _kill_ him.

“ _Oh… oh_ , I’m—”

Her body clenched around his fingers, and he raised his eyebrows at her, eyes sparkling. He didn’t stop though, didn’t change his pace as she came against his mouth, trembling and panting as the sensation rolled through her. Didn’t stop, even as her body quivered, slick with sweat, and she struggled against the rope at her wrists.

“Okay,” she gasped. “Yield! I yield… damn it, _Reno!_ ”

She shuddered when he slid his fingers out of her. 

He straightened up with an incredibly satisfied smirk on his face. “I thought I told you to be quiet.”

The rope was lax. Seeing her opportunity, she wrenched it over her head, taking advantage of his moment of imbalance to brace her boots against his chest and send him tumbling to the floor. She was off the desk a moment later, losing a boot so she could free herself of her breeches. Her knees thudded to the deck on either side of his hips.

He was hard, she could feel him, and his hands were already fumbling at his belt when she tipped forwards to finally— _finally_ —claim the kiss she wanted.

His mouth was slick. She could taste herself on him. He stopped trying to free himself and wound his fingers through her hair, dragging her closer.

How much _was_ a lot? There was a word that sprang to mind, but she didn’t dare utter it. A word that plagued her on the nights she spent alone in her cabin, aching for his arms around her as she slept. She didn’t just _like_ Reno. Her heart was full of him.

She’d never admit it though.

She sighed against his mouth. Dragged herself away from the heat of his kisses and settled herself against him. He groaned against her throat when she rolled her hips. She gasped herself at the friction, her body still overly sensitive. Caught his earlobe in her teeth and felt him shiver beneath her. 

“So, _Captain_...” She grinned. “How much do you like me?”


	4. Tseng/Elena

Elena’s fingers tremble as she strokes his forehead, eyes fixed on the rocky wall ahead. It’s dark—the only light comes from the moon over the crater and tonight the clouds have even taken that away from her. Her eyes have adjusted to the darkness, bruised and swollen, enough for her to see the sickly sheen on his skin. Split lips and bloody gashes.

She stares at the wall instead. They broke her fingers, but she can hardly feel them. It’s freezing in the crater, but she imagines he’s warm beneath her fingertips.

It’s odd. She’s thought about this so often, of running her fingers through his silken hair, brushing them against his mouth. But not like this. Never like this.

Sometimes he’s lucid, but they’re few and far between. The bastards aren’t stupid, they _know_ he’s the one that will have the information and their plan was simple from the start. Hurt her and make him talk. Only he’s not stupid either, _her_ Tseng, he’s clever and cunning and ruthlessly manipulative when he wants to be. So he made them angry, _baited_ them…

When they dragged him back into the cave, he wasn’t moving.

Sometimes he’s awake but _not_ , and he says things, things he’d never say. He tells her he’s sorry, sobs her name, and it hurts her far more than their torture.

There are things she’ll never say.

She’ll never tell him she watches him out of the corner of her eye. Menial things… paperwork… the shape of his lips as he sips his coffee… the movement of his shoulders as he shrugs his blazer on…

She’ll never tell him she thinks about him every night, every _single_ lonely night, as she lies in bed and wonders what life would be like without the black suit, without the President to protect and the job to do…

She’ll never tell him she’s sorry she hasn’t kissed him yet, longs to taste him, to wrap her arms around his neck and wind her fingers through his hair and never let go…

He stirs, jolting her out of her thoughts. His dark eyes are open, shining in the low light.

“Elena…” A croak, barely recognisable.

“Sssh…” She strokes his hair. “Don’t move.”

He catches her hand, presses cracked lips to the inside of her wrist, and the pressure is warm, fleeting. His breath is a shudder through his body and his eyes slide shut again.

She watches the erratic rise and fall of his chest. They don’t have long. She _knows_. But then, what time have they ever really had?

She’ll never tell him she loves him…

Her fingers still tremble as she strokes his forehead, eyes returning to the rocky wall ahead.

  
  



	5. Cloud/Tifa

“Mmm…” 

Tifa’s voice is husky. Maybe it’s something to do with the wet grass that tickles her bare legs, making her skirt damp. _Maybe_ it’s the mouth that’s working its way along her neck. She giggles when he hits a sensitive spot beneath her ear and his hand is warm when it settles on her knee.

“Are you sure about this?” Cloud asks, for the third time, and he looks so completely and utterly hopeful that she can’t help but smile.

“I’m sure.”

He kisses her. This time it’s nowhere near as uncertain as the first time, hours earlier. His mouth is warm, his lips a little cracked, and she's surprised once again that he tastes _exactly_ how she imagined he would.

She imagines _this_ a lot. His hand creeps along her thigh.

Her mouth opens a little wider and she angles her jaw to welcome him further, curling a blonde lock around her index finger as she does. He murmurs contentedly against her lips so she runs her fingers through his hair, nails grazing along his scalp, and this time the noise he makes is a little less subtle.

They’re learning a lot about each other, she realises. Things she always hoped but never _thought_ she’d know. 

His kiss feels more urgent now, and it’s messy, clashing teeth and wet lips and she loves it, the heat of his mouth around her tongue. He’s getting bolder by the second, feather-light fingers trailing along her inner thigh, and she tightens her grip in his hair, pulls him closer.

Suddenly, she’s on her back and he’s hovering over her and she’s not sure if _she_ pulled him, or if _he_ pushed her, but his weight is reassuringly solid when he settles between her thighs.

“Tifa… are you sur—”

She finds the bulge between his legs. Squeezes, and his eyes widen.

“I’m _sure._ ” Surprised by her own boldness, she feels the colour rising through her face. “I want this… I want you.”

He nods, her nervous flush reflected in his own face, and she leans forwards to kiss him again.

When his fingers slip along the edge of her panties, her breath catches. The dawn air is cool against her slick skin but his fingertips are warm. Gentle. He slides them along her and she _knows_ it’s obvious how much she wants him. 

“Um…” He’s frowning, turquoise eyes crinkling a little around the edges. “I don’t—I’ve never…”

He presses his fingers a little more firmly, and she exhales against his mouth. “No, that feels…”

 _Nice_ is probably the word she’s looking for. He continues to stroke her, but it isn’t _quite_ what her body needs. She tilts her hips slightly, seeking the contact she craves.

“Mmm,” she sighs as he edges a finger inside of her. “That’s it…”

Spurred on by her reaction, he pushes it in fully. Slowly slides it out, _in_ , out… She purrs. Heat spirals through her and yes, this is more than nice this is—

He rubs his thumb _exactly_ where she needs it, and her cry is sharp.

He stills. “Sorry! Did I hurt you?”

“No… I like that…”

He does it again, and it’s _almost_ right. She can feel the flutters, but they’re duller, less all-consuming. An itch she can’t quite scratch. She wriggles again beneath him, unsure how to tell him exactly what she wants.

“Is that…”

“No… nearly…” Her face must be scarlet now. “A little to the—”

_Oh._

“That’s it,” she murmurs against his mouth. “Just there…”

He sets a rhythm, stroking and rubbing, and she can feel it now, the crescendo building. She moans and he kisses her again, fingers still working between her thighs, and it’s everything. Soft and sweet… 

She reaches for his fly and he swats her hand away. His voice is unsteady. “Not yet…”

“But…”

“You first.” He kisses the corner of her mouth.

It’s the same and somehow _different_ , the pressure building, and she _knows_ this feeling, knows it well, from the nights she’s spent wondering what _this_ would be like. He touches her with a reverence, a longing, and for all their clumsy fumbling it’s exactly what she hoped it would be.

He kisses her as she comes apart. She trembles and sighs against his lips, his fingers coaxing every tiny ripple out of her. It’s perfectly imperfect, she realises, as she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him closer.

This time, when she reaches for his fly, he doesn’t stop her.

She grins. “Are you sure?”


	6. Reno/Tifa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Domestic fluff based on [this](https://twitter.com/annehwong/status/1371853216170848266) super sweet sketch by Anne <3

“Will you hold still,” Reno grumbles. “I can’t see what I’m doing.”

He ruins the sentiment with a kiss to her collarbone and she giggles and squirms against him. Dark, silky hair tickles his cheek as she moves.

When she went AWOL after lunch, he went looking for her. Followed the acrid scent of paint down the landing and found her cross-legged on the bed, tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth, a teeny tiny brush in one hand and a bottle of nail polish balanced precariously in the other.

Because he’s a gentleman (and bored), he decided he wanted to _help_.

Because she’s wearing a skimpy pair of shorts and a strappy little vest and he’s curled himself around her like a second skin, it’s taking _a lot_ longer than it probably should.

“You’re making a mess!”

He kisses her shoulder. “Well, if you weren’t moving so much—”

“Well, if you’d stop doing that, I wouldn’t _be_ moving so much.”

“What?” He kisses her again, and this time fine, maybe he presses the points of his teeth a little harder against her pulse than’s really necessary. She sighs. “This?”

“Go away.” She settles back against him, inspecting the three nails he’s actually painted and he wraps his arms around her, almost losing the bottle of polish.

_“No.”_

“Idiot.”

He presses his face into her hair, drinking her in. She’s soft and sweet beneath the heady fumes from the bottle and her skin’s warm against his nose. When she turns and kisses his cheek, he grins into the crook of her neck.

If the others could see him now, they’d have a fit. She brings out a side of him he didn’t realise he had.

She brings out a few things. She shifts her weight and one, in particular, is suddenly _very_ apparent. It doesn’t help that she isn’t wearing a bra. From his position at her shoulder, he has a perfect view of her tits and the dark shadows of her nipples straining against the flimsy fabric.

He runs his finger over one puckered bud and she shivers.

“I think three nails is enough,” he says, lips grazing her ear. “It’s a statement.”

“No, it isn’t.” She laughs. “Anyway, three of my nails are still _wet_.”

He screws the lid back on the bottle and tosses it across the bed. Wastes absolutely no time in sliding his hands down the front of her vest. Her nipples are hard against his palms and she sighs when he flicks his thumbs against them.

“ _Just_ your nails?” he asks.

“ _Reno…_ ”

He chuckles in her ear. “Let me help with that, too…”


End file.
